Living in the Grey Area

I remember when I turned twenty-one and my older sister told me to celebrate the last year of my youth. 

She was joking but not joking. And yes, those words came from an ultra-feminist. 

So what was her point? That after twenty-one, there's nothing else to look forward to. Or, at least, society tells us there's nothing else to look forward to. 

When you're growing up in the USA, you can't wait to turn sixteen. For many, that means getting your driver's license, i.e., getting your first taste of legal freedom. (It doesn't go unnoticed that this is the birthday dubbed Sweet, and it's not just because of the satisfying alliteration.) 

Then, you can't wait to turn eighteen. 

Finally, adulthood. You can do just about whatever you want and happily leave those angsty teenage years behind you.

And lastly—the ultimate milestone for American youth—is that delicious twenty-first birthday. In many ways (or, really, just in one huge way), this is real adulthood. It takes the phrase "legal taste of freedom" to a whole new level. 

"And then after that," my sister cautioned me. "There's nothing. There's nothing else to look forward to or to count down to." 

She was—I feel like I should point out—being purposefully dramatic and teasing her younger sister. She doesn't actually believe that life ends at age twenty-one. 

Nonetheless, I can't deny the truth: On my twenty-second birthday, I distinctly remember walking into the office bathroom at work (this was well before the era of remote work had us all in a chokehold) and seeing my first shiny grey hair in the mirror. 

Naturally, as any serious professional would do, I ran out of the bathroom and promptly lamented the news to my fellow entry-level colleagues. 

"And so it begins," I thought. My sister was right. 

Why We Fear the Grey (Or At Least Women Do)

I'm now twenty-seven years old, and the grey hairs have not stopped coming. When people point it out to me (friends, family, strangers) and those sparkling grey hairs catch the light in a witchy-grandma kind of way, it seems like a really big deal, even though I know it's not. 

But actually, when you look at the data, I'm not that far off from the norm—especially when you consider that I have celiac disease, an auto-immune disease that has been linked to premature greying. 

As interviewed for the University of Utah Health, Dr. Kirtly Parker Jones confirms that having a few grey hairs in your twenties is "still normal." More specifically, she says: "Caucasian people tend to start going grey in their early thirties. Asian people in their late thirties and African-Americans in their forties." 

So why does it seem noteworthy that I already have more than a few grey hairs in my twenties? And why does it make me the occasional butt of a few gentle, good-natured jokes from my friends? 

Because women have long been on a quest to cover up their greys. Surrendering to them before fifty (or even at all) is not the norm. 

But why?

The Shameful Shades of Going Grey

Women worry about going grey. You probably know this anecdotally, and we also know this statistically. 

In a study from Crown Clinic, a hair transplant and hair loss treatment center in London, 72% of women said they "dread the onset of greying." This is far fewer than the men surveyed; only 36% felt the same way. 

And women aren't just sitting around worrying about going grey. They're taking action. 

In the same study, 74% of women reported dying their hair within the first year of going grey to disguise the unwanted, colourless follicles. Once again, men behave differently; only 18% admitted dying their hair within a year of going grey.

However, to say men aren't concerned about their appearances would be a (warning: pun incoming) bald-faced line. Notably, men have other concerns on their mind: baldness. Crown Clinic's hair transplant surgeon, Asim Shahmalak, says, "Men are much more concerned about male pattern baldness than they are about going grey." 

That's right, 71% of men said losing their hair would age them faster than just going grey. 

A-ha. So that's what it comes back to. Aging. 

It turns out that's likely why so many women are afraid of becoming silver foxes. (By the way, we call men like George Clooney "silver foxes," but have you ever heard of an equally endearing term to refer to sexy women with grey hair? Cuz I haven't.) 

In the same Crown Clinic study, respondents said women look six years older than their actual age if they have a significant amount of grey hair, whereas men only look three years older. Another study by Columbine Health Systems Center for Healthy Aging at Colorado State University revealed that even women themselves say grey hair is less attractive than "snowy white hair."  

And (shocker) women aren't coming up with these ideas on their own. 

The University of Exeter surveyed women who opted to forgo hair dyes and brandish their silver locks. The results published in Science Daily in 2021 are telling, with "many report[ing] negative consequences such as being ignored or treated as less competent." Above all, "Women reported being shamed—including by family and friends—for being too natural ('let oneself go')."

What It Means to "Embrace" Your Grey Hairs

This survey was from 2021. Since then, going grey has become a more popular choice for women, with many fashion and pop culture magazines publishing listicles with celebrities and other public figures flashing their greys on the red carpet. 

But pay attention to the language: 

• Glamour: "21 Celebrities With Grey Hair Who Are Fully Embracing the Look"

• Marie Claire: "16 Celebrities Who Have Opened Up About Having Grey Hair"

• People: "Celebrities Who've Embraced Their Gorgeous Grey Hair"

• BuzzFeed: "Celebrities Open Up About Letting Their Hair Go Grey, And Their Comments Are So Refreshing"

"Embracing." "Open Up." "Refreshing."

It seems people can't go grey without making a statement, without "embracing" what everyone else rejects and then "opening up" about their brave, "refreshing" experience.

If going grey weren't such a big deal for women, would it still be considered newsworthy (even by fashion magazine standards)? 

Perhaps the drama of going grey is just Hollywood nonsense. So, let's look at the opposite of Hollywood stars: medical students. 

A 2019 study published in Cureus assessed the impact of premature greying on medical students' socio-cultural adjustment and self-esteem. Of the 673 students, 31.2% (210) "suffered" from premature greying. 

While the study did not show any correlation between premature greying and students' self-esteem, it was shown to have affected the socio-cultural spheres of students' lives. For example, "more than half of students said that people with PGH [premature greying hair] were often noticed and commented upon by others." This disrupted their social activities. 

So basically, if you're among the 31% who go grey early (I am!), it's not necessarily a "you problem" but a society problem. In other words, the students' attitudes suggest that we don't personally mind if we go grey. Still, we're worried about what other people will think and how they'll treat us differently. 

And women, it seems, are the most worried. Why else would the global hair colour market be valued at $23.7B in 2019? (Mind you, men's hair colour only made up $113.5M of that number.)

Going Against the Grain by Going Grey

While I've dyed my hair red, blonde, and black before (I'm a brunette), it was always just for fun. (Twice, it was because a friend spontaneously asked me if they could dye my hair as an experiment.) But when it comes to covering up my greys, I've always said I'll never dye my hair to hide them. Instead, I'm determined to go au natural. As I like to say, "My transformation into a crazy old lady has already begun."

But after doing the research, I have to wonder: is this the norm? 

I have a friend (who shall remain unnamed) who also started going grey in her early twenties. She dyed those first meagre hairs the first month they cropped up and has never looked back. 

She says she dyes her grey hair because it makes her feel better. And who am I to judge? But I can't help but notice even a twenty-something's willingness to regularly spend time and money on salon appointments in a valiant effort to stave off the look of old age.

At twenty-two years old, I felt young and full of life. And at twenty-seven years old, I still do. But it seems more people than I realized are heeding my sister's warning: a part of life ends when the first grey hair appears.

Meredith Shubel is a freelance writer. You can subscribe to her newsletter, A Merry Loner, here.